Cold Moon Rising (10 page)

“So she’s really lucky to be alive, huh?” I swept up some yolk with my toast and waited for her to reply with another diatribe.

Another broad expression of her slender, muscled arms made Lucas duck his head before taking a bite of seasoned potatoes. The steak I started cutting was perfectly prepared—fork tender and well seasoned—and so far I wasn’t having to go through the obstacle course of Jonyye’s hands to eat.

Life was good.

“It was amazing! Buried under that rubble all night long, and not a scratch on her! She must have a guardian angel—” She paused and looked sad for a moment. “But of course, she does. Her sweet mother is probably still watching out for her, just like she always did before she passed on. Poor Paul really struggled with the three of them before he married his second wife, Tammy. Liz was probably twelve when that happened. Tammy’s been a saint, with the kids as wild as they were. All three really took to her, and she’s been every bit as good a mom as their real one. She’s been a real blessing to Paul, too, since his heart attack.”

Ah. That could be useful, a lever to get the girl to do the things that are going to be required of her. None of us really like doing all the stuff the council makes us do to protect the public and keep the secret of the Sazi. But we do them anyway, because people that matter to us could die without them.

After Lucas had finished his last bite of steak, he nodded and dabbed at his mouth with a surprisingly wide paper napkin. “We should stop by and pay our respects if he’s not well. Mom would be annoyed if I didn’t. I think she went to school with Paul, didn’t she?”

Jonyye thought about that for a second but then shrugged, just like she was intended to. “They might have been in the same graduating class. Or was that Ralph? I can’t remember. But they were definitely in school at the same time. And I’m sure Paul would like that. I don’t think he gets too many visitors anymore. Lots of folks stopped by right after he got out of the hospital, but you know how it is. People get busy.” She stood up and dusted imaginary crumbs from her apron. “I should get back to work anyway. Paul and Tammy live at the other end of town. You can’t miss their place. Just go to Twelfth and turn right. It’s the pale pink house. Not my favorite color, but Tammy loves it.” She reached out to grab Lucas’s shoulder with a smile. He tried to get out of the way, but there wasn’t anywhere to go. See, the problem with illusion is it’s just that. Lucas was broader across than Josh in real life, so if Jonyye did more than just touch him, what she felt wouldn’t match what her eyes told her. It could bother her for days.

Fortunately, she only put a light finger on the sleeve of his shirt. “You tell your mama that Jonyye says hi. She’ll remember me. I’ve been working here my whole life.”

She picked up our plates and balanced them in her hands as she walked off. Lucas and I were just starting to rise and scoot out of the booth when he sat down abruptly and motioned for me to do the same with a sharp downward movement of his finger. When he picked up his cup and started to sip while watching the door over the rim, I tried to find a way to see what was behind me while not turning in my seat and looking obvious. The convex mirror on the far wall was the best I could do, even though the images were skewed and distances weren’t easy to determine. I could tell from the careful placement of it midwall that it let Jonyye know when someone was coming out of the hallway to the bathrooms. I was betting there’d been more than one collision with her while holding full plates as she came out from behind the counter.

The bell over the door jingled. I wasn’t surprised to spot Ricky and Stuart walking into the place, along with a third man whose olive skin said he was from the Middle East. The copper-colored glow around him said he was Sazi. His scent roiled over the room and even those without supernatural noses noticed something odd about the man. They just didn’t know what was wrong. He smelled enough like Ahmad, except weaker, that I was betting he was a cobra. Now, what in the world were two Jersey guys doing with a Sazi snake? I glanced up and Lucas’s eyes were asking the same question. But the only way we were going to find out the answer was to stay and listen in.

I held up my cup and caught Jonyye’s eye. She nodded and headed our way with a half-f pot. She noticed the new arrivals just as she reached our table. Her sudden frown and the sharp sour scent said she’d encountered them before. “Oh, them.” She lowered her voice and bent forward as though sweeping up crumbs from the back of the table, then whispered words, her mouth barely moving. “You boys stay away from those men. They’re bad news. The sheriff has been watching them since they rolled into town two days ago. Don’t know what they’re up to, but it isn’t good. You mark my words.”

Lucas/Josh gave the only appropriate reply. “Yes, ma’am.” I nodded in agreement. I couldn’t think of anything I’d like more than staying away from those men. The trick was, that wasn’t going to be so easy. Having a snake with them meant that illusion wasn’t going to help much. He’d taste us coming.

The scent of cherries makes Mustaf quite ill. I blinked. Now where did that thought come from? I glanced at Lucas, but he was busy watching the men over Jonyye’s shoulder. He didn’t give me any sort of look that said it had been him talking, and it hadn’t been his voice I’d heard. It was my own voice—

well, as much as you have a voice in your own mind. It was weird, but most of my life is pretty weird right now. If I was going to be living in an X-Files world, I might as well run with it.

“You got any cherry pie, Jonyye?” She turned her head and looked at me with an odd expression, so I shrugged. “Got a sudden craving. You know how it is.” And apparently she did, because she smiled.

“Best in the county. Make it myself. You wait right here.”

I raised my hand and gave her a pair of fingers. “Bring two. I know Josh. He won’t say no.”

Lucas waited until she was back behind the front counter, taking a tall glass dome off a plate of pastries before he spoke under his breath. “Actually, I will say no. I don’t like cherry pie. In fact, I hate it. And we just ate enough for four people. What’s up?”

I repeated the words that had appeared in my brain. “The scent of cherries makes Mustaf quite ill.” That caused a raised brow. “Hey, don’t know where the thought came from, but I’m game.”

My hands clenched suddenly from the sharp pain as he drove his thoughts into my skull. You know the snake?

It’s tough to have a conversation without appearing to, so I spent some time dusting nonexistent crumbs from the picnic table–patterned red-and-white cloth. Never seen him before. But maybe I’m still picking up from Ahmad. He probably has a dossier on every snake in the world. Either way, it’s worth a try. He hasn’t spotted us yet as far as I can tell, but look how fast his tongue is licking his lips. It won’t be long before he zeroes in on us. We’ll find out soon enough if there’s anything to it.

Jonyye appeared just then with two plates that had light steam rising from them. The scent of sugared warm cherries filled the air and suddenly I really was hungry again. She set down the plates and forks with a look of pride. “Warmed it up for you. Pie’s no good when it’s cold. Just tell me if that isn’t the best pie you’ve ever had in your life.”

Lucas managed to fight down his revulsion at the scent pretty well, considering. He smiled, but it was shaky. “Afraid I’ll have to make some room if I’m going to have that. It sure looks good, but mine needs to cool a little anyway.” It did look hotter, nearly bubbling, so when he scooted out of his seat, Jonyye didn’t stop him. “Excuse me. I’ll be right back.” In my mind he continued. I’ll be listening in from the restroom. We can’t just sit and make no noise without being noticed. Now you can just sit and nobody will expect you to talk. Feel free to steal my pie. I promise I won’t mind.

He looked at the pie again as he turned and shuddered a little as I cut my first forkful and stuffed it in my mouth with actual enthusiasm. One bite was enough not to have to fake it to say, “Suit yourself. But don’t be surprised if yours is gone by the time you get back. Jonyye makes a mean pie.”

She beamed and I was suddenly her golden boy. Never a bad thing for future needs. I made a very deliberate point of holding up my fork and blowing on the next bite. I angled my mouth so it pushed the scent of hot cherries right into the faces of the three men sitting at the table nearby. The snake’s tongue went from thoughtfully licking to that same expression a kid makes when they take a spoonful of cough syrup.

Pleased to meet you, Mustaf.

Another slow, deliberate breath followed by a burst of air toward them and it was all she wrote. Quite ill was a bit of an understatement, because Mustaf the snake suddenly held a hand to his mouth. His cheeks puffed out and he clawed his way out of the booth, looked around frantically, and then raced out the door. More than one of Earl’s crew got a delighted expression and raced to the window to watch the foreigner heaving his guts out next to the Shasta daisies. Mike elbowed Earl’s son in the ribs.

“Heck, and he hasn’t even eaten the food yet. Some sort of record for ptomaine. The rest of us won’t get it for an hour or so.”

The old codger with the missing teeth let out a whoop of laughter. “Told you that coffeepot ought to be cleaned out at least once a year, Jonyye.”

“Oh, stop.” She was smiling when she said it. “You shouldn’t make fun of a man in distress. I’ll see if I’ve got some Kao in the back for him.” But I noticed she didn’t move very fast.

I stayed right in my seat because although I’d love to watch him heaving, I found it interesting that Ricky and Stuart didn’t find it interesting. They didn’t seem to mind at all that he was gone. Sort of relieved, in fact. I kept casually cutting off tiny bits of the pie, savoring each bite as Lucas shuddered in my head.

“Wonder what set him off,” Stuart finally whispered after a couple of sips of coffee, while the other men continued to hoot and holler. “Tastes fine to me.”

Ricky waved it off and muttered. “Fugettaboutit. Who knows? Who cares? The guy drives me nuts anyway. What I wanna know is how long we’re gonna be stuck in this bumfuck town? It’s been two days, and nuttin. I think someone’s yanking the Don’s chain. Giodone’s dead. Otherwise, he would have showed up at the hospital by now or at least sent word. But not even flowers. We’re chasin’ air here.”

Hospital? You know anything about someone in a hospital? I was asking Lucas, and he knew it. The little stabby pain made me wince as I bit down. The men at the table noticed me wince so I fished around in my mouth like I’d found a pit in my cherries, then peered at my fingers and wiped them on the plate. It was enough to make them ignore me again.

Just the clinic. We don’t have any agents or pack members in any hospital these guys would have access to.

Stuart shrugged. “Maybe. But Pop says stay here until the weekend, so we stay until the weekend. There was still that plane that landed at the farm this morning, and I still say that farmer was lying about someone flying in.”

Ricky raised his hand, trying to attract Jonyye’s attention to order. But she seemed to be really, really busy right then and didn’t acknowledge the wave. “I just don’t see any reason why they’d protect a guy like Giodone, and if roughing up his kid didn’t make him talk, nothing will.”

Lucas reacted violently and I could hear a low growl come out from the hallway across the room. I agreed. That just put these guys on my shit list. You don’t get to hit kids. It was a hard and fast rule of Carmine’s and one I always enforced . . . permanently.

Stuart slapped his hand out sideways and thumped Ricky’s bicep. “Keep your voice down, stupid!” he hissed. “We’re not on home turf here. That dumbass sheriff is already too damn nosy without giving him ideas of where to go look.”

My ears were really sensitive today or I wouldn’t have even noticed that Lucas had pulled out his cell phone in the bathroom. No doubt he was calling the Sampsons to check up on them.

“Think we ought to call our snitch again to find out when they’re leaving? I’d rather spend the weekend at the beach than in this heat.”

I’d very much like to listen in on that call to find out who this “snitch” was. I was just starting to think about how to track their car when Lucas came out from the bathroom hallway fast and hard, barely missing Jonyye carrying a tray of food for the family near the door. He didn’t even apologize, which wasn’t like him. As he reached the table, he pulled out his wallet and threw a pair of fifties on the table, which was waaay more than the bill would be, even with the pie. “C’mon, Joe. We have places to be. Right now.”

I wasn’t quite done with my pie, but I don’t argue when he uses that tone. He’s a lot more like Carmine than he’d like to think. I wouldn’t put it past him to just pull out a piece and start firing at anything that stepped in his way when he’s on a mission . . . including me.

Jonyye didn’t even have time to acknowledge our leaving before I was up and following him out the door.

Mustaf was still on the ground, coughing and trying to catch his breath. We were halfway to the truck when Lucas changed his mind about leaving and made a U-turn toward the snake. A golden light, tinged with blue, shot out from the aura surrounding him and caught the Sazi snake in a vise. I’d seen him do this before, but it’s always entertaining to watch . . . from the outside. Mustaf fell to his side as though paralyzed. Which he was. Then the magic tightened around him until he was curled into a fetal position with only his head free to move. Lucas, in his Josh persona, moved toward him quickly. His face wore a concerned expression that would convince everyone still staring out the window of the restaurant. But most of the diners had returned to their meals, so there wouldn’t be many people to witness whatever he was about to do to the shape-shifter. I stayed out of it. It wouldn’t look right for both of us to race over. Still, I stayed nearby in case he needed help.

Right.

Fortunately, my ears were still in overkill mode, so I would hear every word like it was being screamed next to my ear. Of course, the trouble with that is that ears aren’t terribly selective when it comes to loud noise. It’s like those “personal amplifiers” you see on television that claim you can eavesdrop on conversations a block away. Sure you can . . . right up until the moment the neighbor kid’s car with the bad muffler, or the high-end speakers, drives by. Then you won’t be hearing anything at all for a day or so.